


From a Dying Ember, to a Brilliant Flame

by SlashyAntics



Category: Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dubious Consent, Knotting, M/M, Mpreg, Multi, Past Miscarriage, Past Physical and sexual abuse on Non-Canon Characters, Past Violence, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-25 20:42:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/957402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlashyAntics/pseuds/SlashyAntics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A world driven by dynamics and your own animalistic instinct, is a hard place to live, especially in Gotham. When the truth comes out, it's you who decides if It tears you down, or makes you stronger. </p>
<p>Officer Blake, Robin John Blake, a rookie beta, has spent his whole life feeling like a part of himself had been ripped away. He tried to find his place in this world, to keep moving on in life even after all the things he has seen. </p>
<p>The truth might just rip him apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is unbeta'd and has been checked over a few times, but might still have a few problems. It's also my first Omega verse, and the information varies for each one. I have several chapters written up, but need some cleaning up and readjusting. I don't know when I will be posting chapter, but hopefully it won't take forever between each one.
> 
>  
> 
> I hope you enjoy this. It's been in my head for weeks, and I finally found the guts to post it. 
> 
> Enjoy.

_The ground beneath his face felt smooth and pleasantly chilled. Rock solid and cool in it's element, and still moist at the same time beneath his blistering hot skin. There was a scent in the room, so very slight in it's essence that it was almost undetectable if it wasn't for his overactive senses. It was soft and gentle, but more of a dewy warm musk. A little sweeter than he thought it should be, but sterile in it's own way. The ground beneath him seemed harsh and sharp, as if he was laid upon small razor sharp rocks despite the smoothness of it's surface. Small little stings only slightly dulled by the bit of clothing that still clung to his lower body. His chest and waist unfortunately weren't so lucky._

 

_The ground was sticky and damp against the exposed flesh. A harsh contrast of hot and cold battling against one another. The heat that radiated from his very core hadn't even in the slightest seeped down into the floor beneath him as the two pressed intimately against the other. He wish he wasn't. Just the barest brushes as his lungs expanded felt like needles prodding into a raw and stinging gash. It hurt. He hurt._

 

_Hurt isn't really the word John would use for what he felt over all, but it was the only thing that could come close. Small increments in a worse off direction, then he could call it true agony. It was more of an insistent unsettling ache that took hold in his gut. Cramps that made good on trying to cripple him, but he could do very little in his position on his stomach to try and settle the pain. His head though, was something else. There was a dizzying pressure in the back of his skull that left him feeling as if he was cracked open. Mouth full of cotton, with his throat scratchy and dry, like if he had swallowed sand paper._

 

_The mere thought of moving, or thinking about, thinking of moving made the pain in his stomach spike. It left his both his body and mind overly reluctant and completely drained of will power. At this moment, he doubted he could do much of anything but press his face flat against the floor._

 

_The cool stone was soothing as he tried to let the sensation wash over him. He was just trying to ward off the heat that boiled on inside of him. Consumed him, surrounded him, devoured him, but besides that, there was this thing. The thing was an itch. Something that had just been in the back of his head for awhile now, became an all demanding desperation. A sharp edged blade point that prodded his mental walls. With each throb of his heart, the itch grew making him shiver and squirm._

 

_The unsettling slicked feeling covering the back of his legs greatly concerned him. From his his position, pressed down flat against the floor, the liquid continued to seep into the crotch of his pants. It had obviously been going on for awhile, seeing as the material was well past soaked. It was slick, but not overly sticky. It was light in weight, but awkwardly slimy._

 

_It made his pants cling to him in a messy uncomfortable fashion. The consistency was like fine thin oil. It wouldn't have caught his attention, except for the fact it seemed to be leaking out of him. Just the thought, a cramp, softer than the others pierced in his gut, a small amount of liquid seemed to gush out of him. Out of his hole. His ass was leaking, and all he could think about was the ache along the base of his spine and low in his gut._

 

_John could feel his breath become ragged and harsh, pushing his chest harder into the ground. His vision was trembling, shaking around him as it became fussier. Any other time, he would think he was in midst of a severe panic attack. Maybe it was a panic attack, 'cause he sure as fuck was panicking. He tried to open his eyes, but got them to do little more than a forced and exhausting flutter. With a pained groan, deep and low in his chest, he tried to shift slightly along the floor, to do anything to flip onto his back._

 

_Scrapped and raw skin, and what felt like on coming bruises were rubbed at harshly, and he really just wanted to stop moving entirely, but he couldn't. He hurt so much, and not just the cramps, or bone deep exhaustion, the infuriating ache that throbbed inside of him, that made him want to cry out piteously. He wanted to scream for someone, anyone at all to help him._

 

_God..Where the hell was he?_

 

 

XxxXXxxX 

 

“I just don't see the point. He made the whole..you know, Den. Dressed it up, I mean, spent _hours_ on working this whole thing out. I doubt he would go through all this trouble for him and his partner and then just throw himself out the window.” There was a quiet snort in reply, which had the other practically squawking indignation at the response. “What! I'm just sayin'.” 

 

John shook his head, breathing out low and exhausted sigh as he just barely kept himself from rolling his eyes. The voices was droning on and on behind him. Jumping from one case to another, and getting more ridiculous with every passing minute. He couldn't keep his eyes from sliding off from the work in front of him. He caught the edge of a near by desk as his gaze drifted away, the view before him wobbling in and out of focus. His eyes seemed unable to completely zone in on the images around him, blurring heavily as he blinked. 

 

The words beneath his pen with swirling and smudging together beneath the pen tip. Soon enough, it would be heading towards complete chicken scratch. None of it was making any real sense anymore. His desk was littered with various items, strewn and separated. Papers, files, several dozen post-it notes, pens, etc. Not unlike most of the cops standing around the precinct. 

 

The smell all around the room made his head spin. There was so many that assaulted his senses all at once. Alphas and Betas alike, and only but a few omegas as well, were all squeezed together in one area. Compacted and seemingly growing smaller as the seconds ticked away. It made him dizzy, making him shake his head in attempt to clear it away. Breathing in and out through his mouth seemed easier, even as the smells floated over his taste buds. All those smells, ripe and mixed together made a shiver run down his back.

 

Goosebumps scattered across his skin beneath the the heavy material of his uniform. The fabric was seemingly getting that much rougher and harsher to deal with. Blinking his eyes a few times, he peered around again as he cleared out his throat. Shifting along in his chair with a weak exhausted sigh, he dropped his head back down to his work. John really was just trying to get this shit done so he could go home. 

 

Which didn't really seem to be working. Several attempts to write soon had the pen tumbling through his fingers. Keeping a growl of frustration buried, he scrubbed his hands vigorously over his face, keeping in the temptation to give his cheek a few slaps to wake up. With a inward grumble, he just folded his hands under his chin and gave his brain a second to recoup. John was overly tempted at this point with just letting his head drop to desk top with a heavy thunk for a long and needed nap. 

 

With a bite at the inside of his cheek, gnawing along at the wet soft flesh between his teeth, he picked up his pen to again try and tackle the work sprawled out across his desk.

 

Even if he was a street cop, the paper work seemed never ending. A torturous flow that piled more and more every waking moment. More and more, all the time, all the same thing. Over and over, again and again, all of it just _the same exact thing_. Theft, breaking and enter, fire, vandalizing, then escalating to assault, murder, rape, suicides, etc. 

 

John pushed all the air slowly from his lungs. There was an aggravated tension that had been building up in his chest. The anger was licking up his back, frustration making him snappy. He wanted to go home. Just like every other drooping and frazzled cop in the precinct. It had been a LONG ass day. One that most of them wanted to be over, with a quickness. 

 

Most of the day had felt off anyways. Multiple ' _suicides_ ', physical assaults, and bad weather. Plus, most of the day, the Coffee tasted like shit. It had been very little use to him as it was, if he couldn't even make himself choke it down to at least attempt to stay awake with it's assistance. Even at the barest taste on his tongue, or a strong whiff of it, made his gag reflex kick in.

 

Most things that he would munch on or drink through out these long days, now made him want to hold tight to the porcelain throne. The whole day, since the moment he had woken up this morning, he had felt tilted, off, overly skewed. All day, John was on edge, wary and cautious. It built up over the course of the day, bringing on more and more pressure. Waking up with cramps, going through out his day with a stabbing pains along his low back, and ending it now with a head ache that felt like he had slammed his head into his desk to many times. If he had once or twice, well, nobody needs to know. 

 

People had been acting even stranger around him. Several seeming to tilt towards him unconsciously, noses flaring, eyes dimming before they ducked out with an embarrassed clearing of their throats. That was the most subtle. Some had become a little to handsy, others seeming more innocent. Subtle brushes of shoulders, others knocking against him in a way that was to much like rubbing. A hand on his shoulder, one or two at the small of his back as he headed in one direction or another. A few of the older Alpha's, Commissioner Gordon included had interacted with him several times, seemed to seek him out for little things. Those people had escaped his thoughts, but others, well, not so much.

 

The younger, more viral Alphas, most of them Street cops as well, had ambled over. They were watching him with a gaze that made him cringe away from the look that resided there. The way they watched so _closely_ , his every twitch and breath. It made him uncomfortable and yet ache in a way that had him squirming in his seat. Ohh, the responses.

 

“Blake.” John's eyebrows slowly came together as he pulled himself out of the sluggish train of though. His body seemed unable to respond quiet so quickly to his brains commands. He had lost himself so deep in his head without even realizing it. Now, it seemed like a challenge to drag himself back out. His body was completely still though, as he came back to himself, as if paralyzed. Prey caught in the eyes of a large predator that waited with baited breath and a excited form ready to pounce. A heavy scent hit him and he slowly inhaled it in, his insides instantly clenching up. He couldn't stop his mouth from dropping open, breathing in slowly. He could almost able to taste it the wilder sent along his tongue.

 

“Officer Blake, You okay?” A heavy hand came to rest atop his shoulder, the touch almost dragging him down under it's weight. The hand was startling warm even through his jacket, but his skin was already burning hot. God, he just realized how much he felt like complete and utter shit. Well more than he did earlier. Turning his head with his chin still tucked down, his eyebrows came up in question to seem as if just noticing the other's presence. Officer Nickles...Alpha. Wide shoulders, slender form, well built. Dark green eyes surrounded by long dark blonde lashes, going along with lightly tanned skin. Good _God_. 

 

“Uh..Uh Yeah? Yes?” Shaking himself mentally, he coughed to clear out the slight croaking sound. John kept his body turned away, in a stance that so obviously protective of itself. Shoulders hunched to stay curled in around his stomach, and chin tucked down to protect his throat. Vulnerable points now unexposed to the man before him. 

 

The other took light note of it, eyes scanning over his form, though he didn't remove his hand from it's position at his shoulder. Eyes flickering, darkened green orbs watched his face as it slowly reddened beneath his stare. John had to stop himself from digging his teeth into his bottom lip, to keep from gnawing at the chapped flesh.

 

“Did you need something?”John asked shortly, peering around the room quickly before looking back up at Nickles's. John's voice was scratchy, deeper than usual. He knew that the question as it was coming out of his mouth that it wasn't exactly a good idea. There was no missing the slight flash in the other's eyes at his tone or question. Officer Nickles face was tightening up, lips thinning out. Yeah, probably rude.

 

John wasn't shielded in any way from these kinds of things. He'd seen pissed off Alphas in this field, and had admittedly pissed off more than a few, but in this one instance, it was different. The hand on his shoulder was was slowly tightening in a painful grip, fingers biting into his sensitive skin through his jacket. The Alpha let up the firm grasp as John flinched under his touch, a low hiss racketing up his chest. It came out low and stuttering, quiet growls that slipped from between his teeth. There was a twitch that suddenly flicked off in his brain, and he suddenly wanted nothing from this Alpha. Brown eyes narrowed dangerously at the other, as he more than just _nudged_ his shoulder from Nickels's hold. 

 

Basic and clear message spelled out across the smaller male. All body language and the furious twist in his scent. “Don't. Touch.” Hope that rings loud and clear enough for you motherfucker. Nickels's fingers twitched, starting to furl inward towards his palms. There was a brief moment before he forced them to relax. It had come with restraint on the Alpha's part, keeping his hand from forming into a tight white knuckled fist. There was something weathering inside the other, something like possessive anger and wary hesitation. It took a few seconds more as his jaw worked, clenching tight and then relaxing before he slowly moved out of John's personal space.

 

The larger man rolled his shoulders as he backed away from the John's desk, the tight muscles along Nickles's arms seem to ripple, tension vibrating across his very being. 

 

Silence swept around the room within a matter of second, high tensions cutting through the air and ordering their attention. It was electric, like bolts of lightening buzzing about the room. The fine and tiny hairs on John's body slowly began to stand on end. His vision was bleeding red, tunneling further and further into near blackness. The muscles beneath his skin all coiled tight, bunching as his shoulders straightened back, broadening his posture. In that moment, he felt like a complete stranger in his own skin as stood from his chair. Body tight and brain focused, his eyes never wavered from the Alpha before him. 

 

Everyone was watching the two male Officers, as if watching two Power Heavy lions stalk around each other on Animal Planet. So enraptured, entranced, yet held still with thrumming anticipation. Though under those scents, there was fear. The bitter scent was tromped down enough in the end, engulfed under the sickly sweet pheromones that swam around the room in a heavy smoke like wave. 

 

It clung to his skin, almost a second layer of sticky sweat that slicked his skin. His face was flushing pink, skin looking dewy and warm. Yes, the room was almost unbearably silent, and still it all seemed to loud to Robin. There was a high pitched ringing in his head, cutting everything off around him. There was the sound of his heart, pounding in his ears, the breath coming from his lungs was was slowly turning harsh and choppy. In his mind, the inner beast was pacing, restless and anxious, but focused in on the man before him. Every small twitch that most people would never hope to catch were all under his gaze. _He was the predator now_. 

 

He almost didn't feel it, but there was a deep rumbling in his chest. It was slipping up in his throat, unable to choke it down in time. It came out loud and unexpected, a sharp and feral snarl that vibrated along in his chest cavity and probably the people's that were unfortunate to have been standing so close him. People around him flinched away at the sound, looking around at each other, none seeming quiet sure what to do. 

 

This wasn't something that hasn't happened before in the Police station, nor was it really all that unusual in a sense. There were fights, there was always gonna be fights and voices raised in furious arguments, but they tried to keep a stable place for the employes. Threats and pheromones escalated high when the city was yet again in chaos, and they were all so enclosed, . It couldn't be helped with all these people in such close quarters for days on end. Some not even managing to make it back home before being dragged back into another brutal mess.

 

“Alright, Guys-” The tension finally hit it's peak, snapping like a fragile thread. Both officers were flying at each other, clashing together with growls and snarl ripping loose through sharpening incisors. Blunt nails clawed and slashed at anything that came within reach. Almost all of the strikes couldn't do much damage through the thick padding of their clothing. Teeth were snapping closed with just barely near misses to tear into flesh. In this brawl, more like a bloody and animilastic showdown, there wasn't any kind of restraint on their strengths or holding back on brutality. 

 

Blood was suddenly spilling into Robin's mouth, a punch basically blind siding him. He gave a low grunt as as the fragile skin of his lower lip split. The treatment made his vision sparkle with bright and harsh lights. An uncontrollable rage pooled into his gut, skin prickling hot all over at the blood that flooded in over his taste buds. It was sharp and metallic, and sweet all the same. John was knocked to the floor with a glancing but powered blow to his right hip, tail bone taking the worse of the fall. The land had just about knocked the wind out of him, but he still managed to growl just as the larger man was on him. Nickels's reached across with his right arm, almost catching him in the jaw, tugging harshly at the material at his shoulder.

 

Angry and seething hisses like a feral and angered cat suddenly filled the chaos, the smaller male having caught the break in movements. With a quick jab to the ribs, he managed to grab a hold across the Dominant male's hand with his other. 

 

He didn't know how, but he knew the other been trying to turn him over. To press him down flat on his stomach, wide powerful hand clenching around the back of his neck, nail digging into the soft flesh till blood was drawn. It was right. He wanted that, but not from _him_.

 

A sharp, high cry was the the signal to end of this match, as despite the futile and desperate attempts previous, they were separated. Robin was grabbed by top of his jacket uniform and slid across the floor, out from under the larger form. Legs kicking out wildly, he got in a angry kick to Nickels's stomach. The air whooshed out of him as others grabbed him under the arms and heaved to pull him back up. Nickles's was yanked backwards to sit flat then dragged to his feet by force. Hunched and held back by several hands, he was clutching his own hand to his chest and near gagging from the strike to his sternum.

 

Someone had their arms around his chest, hot and panting breath in his ear. A loud and rough purr erupted from his throat, causing a few of the others around him to startle. The one holding didn't smell right though as a scent spiked, body jolting. Not ripe like it should be, not heady and deep. No strong tones under the acidic and sweet tang of oranges and coffee. Beta. The dark head of hair flopped forward, breath rushing out in excited pants. There was a moment that he felt eyes laid upon his form, probably looking down at him, but stepped away at the breathless and hysterical chuckle that slipped out. 

 

His shoulders slumped forward as his body suddenly went limp. Other pairs of arms gave quick assistance to keep him from crashing harshly into the hard tiled floor. The world had unexpectedly shifted on it's axis. 

 

To rapidly it hit him, scenes and scents flashing before him, one after the other. Before, when he was really learning how to do his job without getting so utterly distracted with all the different pheromones, he would focus on one to ground himself with. Just to get his brain to zero in on it till the world stopped tilting, but now they were changing to quickly for him to successfully grab onto. All to much, overloading his brain. It started to tumble, twirl around his eyes. He realized it to late that he was loosing sense, barriers already having started to crack and fray away in his mind's eye. 

 

A sharp but gentle slap gave him a startle, as he tried to focus in on that one sharp sensation. It wasn't good enough though, didn't last long enough for him to have latched onto it. An older face, almost mousey brown hair, dark eyes encased in square glasses. The other man was bent over at the waist, looking him in the face, hand suddenly grasping at his chin in a tight grip to keep his head up. He could see the light blue veins in the pale wrist, a strong scent coming off of it in calming waves. An Alpha yes, but not chaotic like the others. It soothed him, but the smell still wasn't right. God, _get away from me._

 

There was a soft snort, air brushing over his face a small wry grin as a lightly calloused thumb brushed over his chin. “Can't do..Blake...Hey- Focu- Jo-!” The words weren't making any sense. Well, they seemed less like words and more a bowl of scrambled and garbled syllables and vowels. Dark brown eyes were hazing over, going out of focus as the environment was finally giving way and slipping out from under him. 

 

The grin on the other's face slid off like water, meandering into an sour grimace as thinned lips began to move in small frantic movements. He was mouthing words, but no sound was coming out. Nothing that reached Robin's brain anyway. There was to much noise in his ears. White high pitched static, and the sound of his own heart racing in his chest. Hands were placed on his shoulder, and John let his chin drop down towards his chest, eyes still watching, though hazed. There was spastic movements of the older man's arm, aimed over to the side.

 

Robin knew that was where the Alpha was, the one that was on top of him... Though, the other was probably seething and still holding his broken index and middle finger protectively against his chest. The feeling the other man gave him when he was on top of him kept him from moving his legs apart at the thought of an Alpha so close to him. Officer Nickles had set him on edge, made his blood and skin feel poisoned. There were less people in the room, but still so many things that were starting to suffocate him.

 

Commissioner Gordon was bent back over at the waist, hands pushing down on his own knees to hold himself up. The young Officer was practically feral looking now, watching his every move as his nostrils flared, taking in Gordon's scent. Green eyes met brown without fear, watching him as he was being watched, trying to suss out what the issues was here. 

 

With a sniff of his own, it took all but a second before Gordon's eyes went wide with green eyes getting taken over with fattening pupils. His expression lilting towards an air of incredulous and strong concern, but most of all, confusion. A long line of what was probably a string of very unprofessional curses slipped from him, really just not seeming to give not one fuck. A strong gust of cool breath passed over John's forehead, rolling over the delicate upper curve of his ear. Long slow shudders ran up his back, a small sound like a purring grumble vibrated in his throat. 

 

Instead of staying bent over, Gordon crouched, knees popping loudly along the way, but he gave it no mind as at looked up at the young officer. He was placating innocence, knowing that the other couldn't really understand him. If Gordon hadn't been in this profession for so long he would have cringed away from the deep black eyes that bored into him. He looked like he wasn't fully human anymore, passing up feral and bordering on pure animal. His inner beast was brushing to close to the surface. 

 

There were a few people in the building that could sooth that look, just their smell alone, but there was to much of a risk that he would attack them on instinct if he chose wrong. The kid wouldn't even know he was doing it till it was to late. To many risk, and just one answer. “Shit.” Gordon muttered, reaching up slowly to rub at the skin on the side of his cheek. A sigh let loose, eyes closing as he pushed it all back down. He didn't want to do this, but he couldn't think of anything else to do. There wasn't time to sit and ponder it all. 

 

Looking back at the slender feral male, he looked directly in his eye, switching between one and the other, before his eyes scanned over flushed dewy features. “I'm sorry about this son, but this is the best thing for you.” He wanted to reach out, maybe place a hand on John's knee, just to try and get him to focus, maybe to make himself not feel so bad. This wasn't something he wanted to do, but what choice was he left with. Sending him to a regular hospital wouldn't help, they weren't properly equip, and locking him up in one of the cells will just drive the people in the precinct to the point of madness. To much tension, to many pheromones, and only one option to protect not only the young rookie, but the people around him that got to close. 

 

“I hope that you can forgive this, but it's safer for you this way. Just until it passes, and it _will_ pass.” Gordon's voice was kept soft, himself knowing the other isn't getting a word of this. Docile and gentle, eyes a bit low, and tone even lower. A head popped in through the main entrance to the bull pen and Gordon received a silent small nod. Looking away, he left himself track his eyes over the lithe form, cataloging just how lax and yet strung out he was. John looked as if his whole body would simply slide right out of the the wooden chair, and at the same time, wired tight to attack.

 

Flicking his hand slightly at the other male, he stood up slowly, stepping away to give a safe distance. As he moved away, the entire time, he did it feeling those eyes follow him. Like he was a small rabbit standing out in the open before a starved predator. They narrowed at his motions, not even having a second to realize before a sharp yowl lashed out through the air as he was ceased around the neck.

 

A large hand caught under the curve of his his chin, bumping along his jaw before pulling it up and to the side, exposing it. There was that second were his body shifted to launch himself out of the chair before a small pin prick was pressed into his skin, plunging it into the vulnerable side of his neck. 

 

The loud and seething hiss made a few men around the room shuffle anxiously, but soon after it followed with a soft whining mewl. John's hips and waist were rocking in the chair, the muscles in his thighs jumping as he sat their wavering, whole body trembles working up along his spine. An over all feeble attempt to get away from the arms wrapped so impossibly strong around him.

 

He tried to fight it, they could all tell that he tried to so hard, struggled with everything he had, but it was already circulating through his system. The cool soothing liquid raced through his veins, his limbs slowly shutting down one by one so he could do no more. Soon his eye lids began to flutter, clenching shut before he tried to force them wide open. So hard to keep them open though, when they felt weighed down by cinder blocks. Long black lashes crushed against warm cheeks as the next sound that he let slip through resembled more that of a wounded animal. Never would he admit it, but it caused a large weighted rock to settle in the Commissioner’s gut. With a small huffs of air and a quiet grunt, he finally fell into unconsciousness. 

 

Looking around the room, he caught in his side view the male that sedated him and two others checking over the still form. Quiet murmuring and mutterings. A faster heartbeat than acceptable, not quiet settling or slowly lowering, even after he had been sedated. Unsteady in it's rhythm, rapid beats to harsh thumping in the slender but sturdy chest at an uneven pace. His blood pressure was through the roof.

 

Looking closely, anyone could see from the bright red flush along high cheeks and down the column of his neck, going with the thin layer of moisture over the exposed skin, that John had a fever. A high one from the smell of it. The scent was so strong, and it got stronger as moments passed. Officers around this part of the precinct had filed out because of it, even after years of dealing with the over-active and high pressured spikes of pheromones, it was too much from them to handle in such an enclosed environment.

 

A stretcher had been brought in not moments later, lowered down to better heights as the two extra males maneuvered the unconscious body onto it. There wasn't any movement beyond his handlers jostling as they shifted him around and strapped him in. There was a pause again, just for a moment, and then finally, almost in complete sync, the remaining few in the major area released a breath of relief. 

 

A bleached white blanket was laid over the John's body, after he had been securly strapped down. The scent around his was dimming down, but only in a slighter degree to what had been coming of the young man's body. 

 

The smell around the room slowly gave way to a fair bit more breathing room. The bubble around them was getting bigger, giving more of an escape. The bright white fabric had been washed in a heavy solution, and from the smell, high medical grade. It's purpose was to neutralize the scent of certain things, some dynamics, to cut off hormone scent production from the populace. Well, more like to mask it. 

 

A slender man silently brushed pass The Commissioner, if for him not being so nimble he would have been knocking against Gordon's shoulder. The man was all to familiar with this, giving off no expression, ultimately professional as he made his way around the area. The Center's sanitized and packaged white cloth was ripped out of the thick sterilized bag. The towel was practically reeking of the stuff, doused in the same thing that John had been covered with. Skilled hands went to wiping down the seat that the Officer had been situated in, tranferring the products from the damp cloth to the chair. 

 

There were quiet murmurs in the background, starting out as just barely a few here and there and rose in volume as one or two more followed suit. Some took to whispering through out the smaller groups that remained loitering in the room, just merely trying to fill the heavy silence. Several uniformed Officers that had been standing behind doorways, out of the quarrel but still listening in, filed back in cautiously as the events died down. 

 

The stretcher was propped back up with a snap, checked quickly over again just to make sure it was secure, before being silently rolled out of the room. The unconscious body rocked with its movements, but didn't stir awake. People moved out of it's way, stepping aside as they ushered the stretcher past. Curious and confused eyes were peering down at upon it and it's occupant. 

 

“What would cause a John to do that?” There was a quiet shuffle, fabric shifting around as the other shrugged. “I don't know. He just wasn't himself. Looked fuckin' Possessed.” 

 

“Right? I mean..I know today was bad, but John is a beta, he never, and I mean, _never_ went ballistic like that before when it came to an Alpha pushing his luck.” There was a slight pause before the rustle of uniform jacket, shoulders lifting slightly in a lazy shrug. “The kid's got a back bone on him, I'll tell you that. Not the first time he has looked ready to go toe to toe with someone playing Alpha-Dick, but Nickels's wasn't really doing much. This was just wrong-” Gordon's head turned sharply to look at the two uniformed officers behind him. At once they both snapped to attention as he stared at them, both seeing the look etched into his face. 

 

“Sir, Something was seriously wrong with-” Again, the shorter Officer was cut off with a wave of the Commissioner's hand. It cut through the air, ordering for silence. There was a weary air about him, as he placed his hands at his hips. Work worn fingers were twitching along at his belt, finger tips moving deftly at the fine dips in the worn leather. There was a slight shake of his head as he turned around the room, rotating in a slow confused circle. He seemed to be peering around at nothing, eyes never staying on one thing for to long to really be catching his attention before moving on.

 

“Beta's don't react like that Davidson.” Gordon murmured quietly, almost completely to himself. Nobody couldn't really say the response was vague. It was just merely... unfinished. The older male seemed to lose himself in it, fingers coming up to scrub over his mouth before scratching lightly at the thick mustache. Another head shake as he removed his glasses, rubbing tiredly over his eyes. One could practically see the head ache throbbing in his temples.

 

Neither Officer wanted to say anything, the look on their Superiors face made them clam up as their throat dried out with the questions and new concerns. The uniformed men looked at each other, both shifting hands in front of them, and more than a few suggestive head waves, trying to get the other to speak up...And, nothing. They knew John. The kid was young, early twenties and had only been a cop here at the Gotham Precinct for little over two years. Though young, the kid was good at what he did. Would make a damn Detective if that's what he shrived for, and they know that he did. One of the youngest on the force, and just as stubborn as the old dogs.

 

“Beta's don't react like that, because he isn't a Beta.” Most of the men standing close enough suddenly caught onto their conversation. Conversations again dried out as they all looked silently over at their leader. A few looked over at each other, wary glances at the other if they could tell was he was talking about. They all knew this kid. They all knew his story, and a few knew about what kind of life he led. Different emotions were swirling into air, nearly clogging it back over again. Confusion, Worry, Anxiety, Bewilderment, incredulous disbelief, there was even the lightest sour tang of fury flowing shallowly beneath all the rest. 

 

Gordon slowly slumped down into the nearest chair available, letting the smells wash away. He could practically hear his weary bones creak in protest. Running a hand through his hair, he tugged at it, trying to rid the pressure building up beneath his skull. Today was just one kick in the ass after another. What a day.

 

“Officer John Blake is an Omega.”

 

What a fucking day, indeed.

 

 


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is over 8000 words long..I'm not sorry.  
> Not Beta'd, and even thought I have checked it over more then five times, I still find stuff I don't like in it. 
> 
> What I am sorry about though, is that I thought I would have this out sooner. I am SO sorry. I got laid out with a really bad cold, and slept most of that time. Well, then I just took a break from most artistic duties. Sorry.
> 
> I will try and make the third chapter come a lot sooner.

  
“Help!” Robin cried out, voice echoing through out the room. It was feeble and low, grating his throat till weak coughing followed. With his voice hoarse and shallow, the weak croaking coughs were even worse. Sounded like someone was reaching down his throat and dragging muddied gravel back up. There wasn't any way to tell how long he had been laying there, weakly trying to move, when he was finally able to drag his eyes open.

There was a heavy layer of crust and goo that had built up around his eyes while he had been unconscious, a gooey sheen blurring his vision. Blinking had lessened it, clearing his vision just a bit more each time. Keeping his eyes open was a bit harder. More than a few times he had to force his eyes back open, not realizing at first that they had again fallen closed. His body ached. His very being ached. There was a crick in his neck that was causing a hurting throb in the sides of his head.

Robin's muscles quivered and strained beneath his tender skin as they were stretched taut from exertions. There was a bruising sting in the side of his neck. The area felt sore and raw, and he hadn't even tried to touch it yet. He remembered that, the startling sting as a strong arm wrapped around his neck, pulling his head back enough to force his chin up away from his vulnerable throat.

Sharp and sudden, right in the side of neck, going deep into the muscle. It was where they had injected him with whatever sedatives they had pumped into his body.

The drugs had been like an ocean, knocking him around as the waves kept crashing down on him. Fighting hadn't been useful or possible, but that didn't mean he hadn't tried. He fought so hard, trying to grasp at a ground that had been quickly slipping out from under him. From how he felt now though, he wish he hadn't woken up at all.

Robin couldn't tell what the time was or even if it was still the same day. When he thought back on it, trying to determine by how stiff his body was, he drew blanks. More then one he realized. There were gaps in his memory as he tried drawing on the last thing he remembered.

Robin remembered sitting at his desk, scattered papers everywhere, a cramp in his hand, senses over loaded with all that was around him. He had wanted to run and hide in a little corner somewhere to have some kind of peace and quiet.

There had been to much going on. There was a fight, blood was drawn as his lip was split. Retaliation ended with the other's fingers being broken backwards. The other Officer and himself were pulled apart, and after that bit things were fuzzy around the edges. Fading in and out like an old movie. Commissioner Gordon trying to speak to him, the feeling of heat that threatened to suffocate him.

The needle at the end, he could remember that just fine. He had been subdued, over taken, forced into unconsciousness. Not the greatest place to end up after all. Seeing as he had been knocked back into a place of numb and peaceful darkness, he had woken up in pain and alone.

Robin groaned quietly, eyes clenching shut for just a moment. Just opening his mouth gave a great sting to most of his face. He gave small twist of his hips, wiggling against the floor. When his chest pressed harder into the ground, he grit his teeth, blinking his eyes against tears.

He had to get off his stomach, to stretch out along his back. He had to try, to try anything at all right now, to release the pressure on his ribs. A bit more squirming, his ribs and stomach rubbing and pressing in against the floor, with his legs unable to really cooperate. He could wiggle his toes, rub his knees against the floor with just a slight bend, but couldn't really use them for leverage. They seemed to be weighed down like led.

He had but a single warning to stop moving, one he completely ignored, before the nausea hit him. It was cruel and sharply intense as it rolled in his stomach. Bile spilled up the back of his throat before he could swallow it down, burning his esophagus. He wanted to scream out in frustration. To scream at the heavy sluggishness of his body, how pathetic and weak this state left him in, but he didn't have enough time to make a sound before his stomach revolted and the contents spewed across the floor besides him.

Robin had a shred of sense to turn his head so it wasn't right under his face. Trying to maneuver himself up on his elbows wasn't working out right, nearly collapsing from the weight to face plant into the floor. Heaves and dry sobs kept coming as his body strained. It was pure stomach acid, the feel of it coming up his throat making his eyes water.

When he managed to swallow a bit of the feeling back, he started wheezing. His head bumped harshly against the floor as the weight became to much to hold up. He felt the tears rushing behind his eyes. The real kind. They prickled and burned behind his eyes, and he coughed as gently as he could, but it wasn't enough.

Little weak sounds were spilling from his mouth now, going so far past his control that he would probably be angry with himself had he been in his right mind. Robin started to nuzzle his face against the cold ground. It was slick from his sweat, and it gave him a small distraction. His skin stuck in a few places, making him groan as he forced it's past it's little blip. His brain was so hazy, a jumbled mess, with body aches to go right along side it.  
  
A heavy banging sound reverberated through the room in a shocking echo. It caused Robin to flinch away as much as his body was able. Quieter thunking, like large magnets hitting the fridge door, sounded after it. Forcing his eyelids back open, he tried to look over with narrowed stinging eyes. Light flooded into the room, blinding him and making him head throb dangerously. Blinking sluggishly, he looked to catch a mere flash of people. Three if his vision wasn't shaking. Three darkened figures engulfed in light.

Another smaller bout of nausea came through, Robin's jaw coming down before he could really turn his head. His spine arched off the floor as his body strained. His body was trying to expel everything from the pit of his stomach, clenching up and releasing as he retched and coughed till he feared his ribs would break. All of this for just a few weak ounces of acid.

There wasn't any other sounds beyond his own ragged breath. As he managed to damp down the worse of it, small weak heaves, he went limp against the ground. With shivering and tight muscles, he gasped the cold air in as if he was a man suffocating. With his eyes closed against the light, weak coughs getting weaker still, he felt a presence crouch at his side.

He was shocked on a baser lever on how someone at this point had easily gotten so close to him without him hearing them. Panic and fear hit after though, as a strong cool vice slid around the back of his neck. The grip greatly startled him, body already diving for a roll.

The grip was lost, fingers scrabbling against the sensitive of his neck as he managed to duck out of the immediate reaching distance. Incidentally, something jabbed into the ribs as he rolled away. It was a tougher object that would probably leave a bruise from this encounter. The material was compact, and even if it was squishy, it was still pretty solid. A shoe.

This time he couldn't keep down the panicked sounds that bubbled up. A growl rumbled in his chest as he bared his teeth. As it t came through as a strained whine. Fist and elbows lashed out in several different directions, most of them aimed at the figure crouching beside him. Large chilled hands, larger than his own, wrapped around his wrist. They tugged at him, pulling at his arms with a strength he couldn't resist against as they set to manage his struggling limbs. As he resisted the pulls and tugs, he was dragged across the floor, more like slid across, being pulled further towards the other.

Robin let out low hoarse grunts, body twisting and straining away as every molecule yowled in agony. He tried pushing up with his legs, feet planted into the ground. He tried to use his slighter body weight to knock the figure over flat. It only resulted in his back being slammed up against a solid chest.

With broad strength and quick reflexes, the man behind him twisted Robin's arms up in a wide arc, bringing them down to cross them over in front and pull them in tight. His hands were held at his sides, the man holding him in a position were his arms were barred to his chest, and it left Robin wrapped up in himself like a straight jacket.

“No!” Robin wailed, scream piercing through out the room. He didn't understand what was going on. Brain lagging and muddled, and without enough data he was drawing blanks. There weren't any distinct smells in the room besides himself and the mess he made on the floor.

“Let go of me!” Robin growl, trying to wrench his wrists away. When the hold pulled to harshly at his wrist, he roared a broken up sound, pushing back with his feet, flailing. “Let go of me, you piece of shit..” His voice cracked on the last word. The grip tightened even more till he felt the bones start to grind. They tightened and pulled till he couldn't stand the pressure.

Blinking furiously, Robin's scanned the room quickly, his eyes sharpening just that bit more with his fear. Even with his police training along side, he couldn't stop the panic; the fear, that overwhelmed him. Nor the futile need to run instead of fight. Three people, two males in front of him, and the one he was crushed up against.

It was hard for Robin to keep even footing as bucked backwards. With a snarl of frustration he twisted his body side to side, bending forward as far as he could be allowed and then back. His eyes were burning, the edges becoming duller as they zipped around the room.

For one, it was dimmed. Low lights with even lower bulb watts, and only a few placed so it wasn't completely dark. The floor looked like marble, but not as shiny. Certain spots glowed under the light that was flooding in through the door. The place were he got sick, the damp outline that his sweat made, and the small pool from the sticky mess that was all over his pants.

A medal door was the entrance way, like a miniature version to that of a bank vault. There was a bed in the room as it turns out. A small twin that had those disgustingly bright white blankets and sheets on it. The bedding was ruffled and twisted up, the one pillow laid atop it was was nearly hanging off the side. They must have deposited him on it, and before he was truly awake, he had crawled his way off.

The door was slowly closed again now, the room going dark. There were small ticking sounds, little beats as it was sealed down. He was again trapped, not fast or strong enough to run, and no way to get past the large and thick medal door.

One of the three, just a bit taller than Robin himself by his guess, was standing at the back of all the chaos. He was smaller in body mass, slender and wiry. More lethal. He absently fiddled with a small object he held within his hands. Something with a slender barrel and a thin plastic piece jutting out at the end.

He knew what it was, and he knew who it was meant for. Robin growled lowly at the other man, sharpened teeth flashing in the limited light. Arching his head forward till his chin nearly rested on his chest, he threw it back. The man behind him ducked his head to the side, Robin just barely managing to slam the back of his head into his face.

It was the small, but acute details that really got under his skin. None of them were putting off any kind of scent. There was something faint and wispy wavering just underneath whatever they had on their clothes, but he just couldn't catch it. They were completely blank when it came to any kind of pheromones, and his brain didn't know how to handle that information. You put off a scent, someone can tell what you are, you are not a complete stranger. You can act accordingly. These were blank parts of a puzzle with edges that didn't quiet fit.

The man with the syringe was dressed in a completely different attire than the two Robin stood between. The two larger males were in issued blue orderly uniforms, long sleeved white shirts underneath and those creepy black rubber gloves. The man in the back wore dark pants that were fitted to his legs, several pockets up and down the legs; his shoes were close to that of combat boots; a soft long sleeved gray shirt that seemed a size to big for his slender frame just brought the whole picture together.

The man behind him looked over his shoulder, pressing his face uncomfortably close as he gave a curt nod to the other handler. The man near the door muttered something to himself with a small shake of his head, pushing himself off against the wall. Robin couldn't understand what he said, the other being to far away, but he didn't think it was English. His mouth hadn't been moving quiet right.

The hands around his wrist pulled tighter, causing his own arms to pull harder in around him. It pulled at his joints and softer tendons, making him let out a low sullen hiss at the pain. He slow raised his head when he felt the man's presence draw nearer. It seemed so hard to lift his head and stare as the slender male stepped in closer. He sounded as if he had floated across the room instead of calmly and steadily walked towards them. Even so small in build, Robin should have still heard him.

Robin could see the full body of the syringe as the man brought it to his mouth slowly. Fat pupils dilated further till they over took most of his eye. He watched the man as he placed the thin end between his teeth, slowly pulling the piece off.

Robin snarled out desperately when the hand with the needle dropped to the side, stepping in to his personal bubble. This time he was planting his feet and backing up into the man's chest to put space between him and that needle. Anywhere was better than where that thing was. That thing had made him like this to begin with. The ache inside of him, the pain, the deep desperation and longing.

“Get that thing away. Get that fucking thing away from me! Fuck, Please!” He growled out vehemently, head twisting to look away, body trying to follow through as well. Just to quickly.

There was a quiet and sickening wet pop, making him yell out in a surprised shock, before he gave a high whine shortly after. White hot pain splintered through out his shoulder and chest. It faded with every other beat of his heart till it left behind nothing a deep throb. It took a few deep breaths and silently cursing before he realized he hadn't managed to pull his shoulder out of it's socket.

His harsh rapid panting becoming quiet dry sobs, body unable to curve over in on itself against the pain, or even exhaustion. “Please, don't use that again. Look, My name is Officer John Blake. I'm from the Gotham City Police Department.” He raged, spitting his title out at them. They didn't seem to give recognition or care that he was an Officer. He was AT the precinct before he ended up here, so they brought him here from the station. They already knew who he was.

“God, please, don't! Fucking don't...” Robin's words were stuttering off, spitting out a few weaker curses as he shook his head limply.

His body was sagging as far as it could without straining at his shoulder to much. With his knees able bend up, he still pushed his feet out against the smooth surface of the floor. They skidded across as cut off hisses and desperate mewls passed through his lips.

A gentled hand grasped at his chin. Fingers tips brushed over his skin, and that hand seemed more secure in that one touch then Robin thought he might have been in his whole life. Which seemed pathetic when you thought of it. The touch was with pale and soft bare skin and not the rubber of gloves. Robin tried to jerk his head away, but the fingers just gripped harder till it was almost too tight, keeping his face where it was wanted.

Breathing air quickly in through his nose, another harsh pant of air was pushed back out. The man didn't move, staying unnervingly still, as Robin avoided turning his eyes towards the other. It was apparently what he wanted when he jerked his head more towards the front, sending a painful jolt up the back of his neck. Slowly, he looked at the crouched male, lids lowered, trying to harden his gaze as much as he could with wet stinging eyes.

Sleepy blue eyes stared back at him, expression one of contemplation, but Robin couldn't tell what he was thinking. Nobody seemed to give notice to his state of dress, body dirtied and slippery from the mess that was leaking out of him and his own sweat. The young Omega could feel his lips trembling, a lone thin streak of blood seeping down from the newly opened gash at his teeth unconsciously gnawed at his lip. The man's thumb gently and quickly wiped it away, smearing a bit against his chin.

The break in his lip wasn't bleeding much, but it still hurt. Those deep blue eyes narrowed, becoming near slits as he pressed in just under the split in the skin. The pressure and weight of the thumb kept Robin's from tightening his lips against the pain, instead just being able to clench his teeth at the spike in his face. When the man pressed in a little harder, eyes flickering up towards Robin's, he stared back, deep breaths coming out before he could no longer suppress a hurt whine. Those eyes lost their tension at the edges as went to wiping away the remaining smudge, again just holding his chin.

Robin grunted loudly, head dipping down against the hold as a sharp cramp spiked in his stomach. A nauseating gush of fresh liquid seeped out from deep within him. His pants made awkward squelching sounds as his legs shifted along the floor, uncontrollable and restless. Face twisting up in pain, a glaze of sweat broke out over his skin again. It felt like it was pouring down his body as it pushed out through every pore and cell. Small singular drops burning his sore eyes as it dripped down his face.

“What..The hell is happening to me?” Robin's said, voice filling the unsettling bubble of silence, chin moving in the other's hand with tight movements. Blue-eyes merely blinked at his question. There had been a queer quirk of his mouth, the edges twisting down into a frown before it evened out. When he didn't give a reply, Robin hissed through his teeth.

“ _What have you done to me?_ ” Robin growled gravely, voice low and strained. Robin's legs twisted against the floor, as his stomach seized up, heaving in breath till he felt sick by it. His eyes were becoming wet again, tears prickling behind them.

This question seemed to finally get the other man's attention. Tilting his head, he ignored the curses that Robin had slipped through before, eyebrows coming down in true confusion.

The look on Robin's face and the rough drag of his voice must have made him recalculate and rethink whatever he had come up with in his mind. His eyes scanned back and forth over Robin's body, as if reading his life story. The words drawn out over his skin to be judged. The man's thumb dipped lightly into the curve of his chin, using it to tilt his face this was and that.

Robin had to close his eyes against that gaze. He could do nothing but just let the man examine him at his own will. At the seconds ticked by, Robin realize the throb under his skin, was starting to dim. He soothed him, he realized. Physically soothed him, anyways. The touch of the other's hand upon his face, soothed the live raw nerves traveling under his skin. The place where the other held him, it was like the touch cut off the electrical current beneath his flesh, but it barely took the edge off the pain. It was refreshing though, as much as he didn't want to admit it.

The man lets out a soft low huff of a sound. He tilts his face upwards, chin jutting out. “I'm Barsad.” He said shortly, his accent giving the name more pronunciation, making it sound richer. The announcement was out the blue, but it made Robin feel better in a bizarre kind of way. The man was still a stranger, but knowing his name meant he had a name for a face. He was identifiable. He gave a small confused nod, but the other could see that he was at least a bit grateful for giving him that small piece of information.

With a nod of his own, Barsad releases his chin. The thinly calloused finger tips dragged along the side of his jaw as he went to stand. He lets out another small puff of air, looking away from Robin. The cool air brushed over his face, pleasantly refreshing. It was was like an icy breeze compared as it wavered over his fevered skin, causing him to inhale deeply on instinct. There was a smell there, buried so deep underneath. Underneath what seemed like vanilla and lavender, he finally caught a scent. A way to differentiate the dynamics. Omega.

“Pick him up. Carefully. He needs to see the Doctor now that he is awake.” There was that tick of his head and a quiet sniff. “Most definitely shoved into a shower. His pheromones are making the room reek and could set someone off..” Robin couldn't really focus on his words, but he understood the gist of it. He stunk, rude, but he got it, and they were taking him to see a Doctor. Good.

The man peered down at him with intelligent blues, making the young cop swallow audibly. There a limp tilt at the edge of his mouth, a small kind of smirk before that too fell. He looked at the man behind him, nodding at him with a small forward tip of his head. Barsad's voice was soft yet authoritative, the words rolling around in his mouth with the light accent. He was calling the shots in this little three man group.

“Kid.” Barsad called out quietly. Robin looked up at the title, all to familiar with it to know that it was him he was being called to. The Omega was watching him, taking him in at every angle and form. Twisting body parts had, fo the most part, soothed out. They still shifted around, unable to stop themselves at the insistent pain thrumming through him. “It's gonna be alright.” With those last words, soothingly off-handed, he strolled gracefully towards the entrance of the door banging on it three times. There was moment of deafening silence that followed before that clicking again, just as quiet, but no bang after. The door was magnetically locked.

It opened on it's own, the room slowly being flood again with light. It was like a wave, as it lit across the floor. When it now pressed against the wall, the light was in Robin's eyes, making him squint. To long in the dark, and his eyes having adjusted for it.

Looking back over, Barsad watched Robin like a hawk. Robin took his eyes off the other to watch the other handler, who was silently moving in closer. The tall male, who just had to be an Alpha from his size, ambled towards him, pace careful. He didn't seem wary as he approached, but he was being cautious. Primal instincts had him twisting away, trying to break the hold as the tall form came towards him. A quiet shushing noise, almost like a whispered purr floated towards him. The sound stopped just as quickly as it had started, but he knew it was the him. His eyes traced quickly over to the Barsad's silent form, but he wasn't looking back.

“Tanner, you are looming. This is not your first job, you should know better.” Barsad snapped, voice losing that soothing notion. Most people would wither away under the scornful tone.

He didn't move forward to intervene though, just watching on carefully as he stayed leaned against the wall. This wasn't the first time he has been in this situation. It was too comfortable for him, second nature. That worried the young Officer.

“Sorry.” Tanner mumbled at the other. It didn't sound very sincere, but Blue-Eyes allowed it either way. Tanner slowly crouched down till his knees touched the floor. He slowly started shuffling forward. Keeping his hands where the Robin could see, he was reaching out towards him. When the smaller male flinched back, the one behind him tightened his grip, and the one before him went still.

It was a give and take as they approached him. Careful and patient. They finally managed to get him between the two, lifting him slowly, being careful about every hiss that came out through clenched teeth, and broken moans that rippled through his form. They were taking more of his weight than Robin himself was. They didn't seem bothered by the mess his body had become, or the sweat that should have made his skin slippery.

With shaky limbs and breath coming out in little harsh huffs, the cramps were twisting up his guts. All those he could deal with but as he tried to stand up straight, a loud grunt was punched out of him. His stomach muscles had clamped up and locked, forcing him to bend back over at at the hips to release the pressure. His stomach felt like a rubber band stretched to far, the pressure building painfully and if he kept pulling on, stretching it beyond it's reach, it was gonna snap. Arms grasped loosely around his ribs, propping him up so the blood wouldn't rush to his head.

“Sir, we're gonna need a stretcher.” Tanner stated quietly as he looked Robin over. Robin's head snapped up to look at Tanner, shaking his head frantically, before stared pleadingly over at Barsad. “No! No, I don't wanna be strapped down-”

“We're not going to strap you down.” Barsad stated calmly, giving no notice to his loud outburst. The older Omega cut in sharply before he could open his mouth. “We're going to need a wheel chair.” Barsad called out through the open doorway. He looked out quietly, seemingly getting no response when he nodded his head in affirmation.

Looking back over at the young Officer, he raised his hands in a mocking question. “Better?” The light condescending tone made Robin want to growl, but he just gritted his teeth and swallowed it down. His dark eyes were blazing as he stared the other in the face. Barsad expression slowly fell, head dipping forward as he stared back. Biting at the inside of his cheek, Robin finally let his head hang down. There was a incline of movement as he nodded in answer.

“Good..” There was a beat of silence, the sentence staying unfulfilled as Barsad shifted on his feet. The younger man could feel those eyes on him, looking him over, but he just couldn't lift his head up enough now to look back. “Look, I know it hurts, but you are going to have try and breath through it.” Yeah, right.

“I can't-” Robin started off weakly, but again, Barsad swiftly cut him off. “I know it seems that way, but you have to try. It will help.” This time, Robin didn't stop the angry hiss that escaped. The sound was countered with an even more feral one.

Both men holding him up could feel the muscles tighten beneath their hands, the stronger shiver that ran through him. They were smart enough by now to know that jumping in the middle was a bad idea unless it came to violent blows. Though in Robin's condition, it was unlikely, if it came down to a fight, he would last very long against Barsad. This was a Challenging.

“Kid.” Barsad's called out again, voice more gravelly. It was answered with a growl, this time lower in tone, almost inaudible to their ears. There was a grumbling sound before a heaving sigh came forth, seem to rebound off the walls.

“I ache.” Robin's voice was quiet and morose. When his body gave into dipping, the men holding him up readjusted their grip. Voice trembling, he whimpered as he finally forced the words out, ending on a dry and frustrated sob. “I ache so bad. It hurts so much, and I almost can't stand it.” Robin spit the last words out bitterly solemn, like if he was admitting to his defeat. There wasn't any response to his words, before a quiet hum like sound filled the air.

“I know, and it will just get worse, if you don't breath. Take a deep breath in.” Barsad stated lowly. His voice becoming smoother. Robin's feet shuffled against the floor, but there wasn't a response or comment fired back. Not even the slightest peep, but Barsad's voice, his words, were hard to resist. His tone was almost hypnotic. Silence descended on them all.

“Breath, Kid.” Barsad ordered more harshly, voice settling into a more controlling baritone. Without missing a beat, the bent over form inhaled sharply through his nose, lungs expanding to the best of their abilities. It was stuttered and a little broken up, but he did it. He held it, his lungs near fit to burst at the pressure, waiting for whatever he was called up for next. “And back out slowly.” The exhale came out in the same fashion as the inhale, faster than it should have been, skipping in a few places in.

Tanner and the other handler on call, Booker, looked over at Barsad, the look in their eyes filled with varying mild confusion and questions. He ignored them. They didn't care either way if he did. There was no need for Barsad to talk to them about this. This was normal for new omegas, and that was why they sent the older Omega in. This was his area.

Since they had brought him in, Barsad had handled it like a bird taking to air. He always took two handlers with him to deal with moving the Omegas around, while he himself dealt more with the mental and sometimes emotional side. He was the one that over looked the ones that ended up in these situations after being brought in. The more violent ones. This kid, This young Officer was different than any he'd seen before, and he had seen many. Barsad took to him in a way he hadn't for the others.

Robin didn't have to be instructed after the first few times, just giving in. Deep flowing breaths in, and blowing them back out slowly. Each pass through, it got a bit easier, more controlled. Seconds turned into minutes before they could start to feel it. The tension slowly bled out of him, muscles going lax as tempers did the same.

Booker and Tanner felt the shift between them, muscles bunching and straining and then there was a light push. Robin wanted to try and stand again. Again, taking most of the young Omega's weight, without to much jostling, they slowly levered him up. Hands were placed under Robin's arms as they shifted around to get a better hold. At the mid point, yet again, the pain struck him. The feeling of being stretched to far made him grow still.

“Breath.” Barsad's voiced slowly, voice controlled and calm. His stance, perched against the dark wall, never shifted beyond the quiet shuffling of his feet. Deep breath in, slow exhale out. Deep breath in; Slow exhale. Again and again, rinse and repeat.

The muscles in his stomach slowly relented their hold, random spasms making a few exhales closer to a grunt, but they were finally relaxing. Parts that were taut gave way and finally Robin was able stand. His shoulder were slumped, ducked down. The rims of his eyes were red and there was a certain wet sheen glazing them. He kept breathing, looking exhausted and drained, cheeks stained with a bright flush.

Something flickered in the light from the entrance way, but before he could look over, there was a loud bang in greeting. It caused Robin to blow out more harshly this go 'round. Barsad hissed through his teeth at the noise, muttering dirtied profanities under his breath in that peculiar other language. More of the light was blocked out as another handler, this time a young woman filed in. She was short, with long pale legs and bleached hair. It was bunched up comical pigtails, both ends dipped in two different colors, one black, the other red, depending on which side. To see her, here very posture seemed to scream Alpha, but her smell said different.

This one wasn't covering her stench at all, and even though her attitude screamed Alpha, her smell was pure omega. It was ripe and oozed sex, but it wasn't heat. The smell of the Omega was so unlike Barsad's. Her sent set his skin on fire. As the smell polluted the room, mingling with his. It was poisoning the air. He couldn't help breathing more and more of it in.

In that moment, he didn't see Barsad, or the two men holding him up, he just saw her. He wanted nothing more than to dig his nails to her skin till the flesh ripped beneath his finger tips. There was a seductive sway to her hips as she pushed a black wheel chair through the medal frame, hands seeming to dance over the handles. Just to look at her, he had to punch down a snarl of fury. The want and fucking need to pin her under him and sink his teeth in her throat till the blood flooded into his mouth.

What the hell is wrong with him? Robin could feel the beast in his mind pacing, could hear him roaring and snarling at the very fact she was still breathing. _'She is a threat'_  it howled. She was smaller than him, but that just made it even worse. Smaller, and appearing more delicate, she could slip through the crack and slit your throat before you even knew you were choking on your own blood.

Barsad eyes went tight around the edges as he took silent note of the tension and rage crackling around Robin, eyes piercing straight through it. “Thank you Nurse. Quinn.” Barsad said tersely, deadly. Barsad didn't seem to grateful in any sense. When he didn't get a reply, he reached over and practically ripped the chair from her grasp. The male Omega was not to fond of her himself.

“Do not walk around without the blockers.” Barsad voiced quietly, stepping in closer. His lips were pulled back as he censurably spelled it out to her. Nailed it.

Blockers? “Ahh, come on little B! That's no fun. Not at ALL, and who is this little guy?” Quinn's attention was now intensely focused on him, and when those eyes traced over his body, dragging so slowly over his tense figure, he couldn't help the feral, rippling growl.

The sharp smile on her face turned into a wide sharp toothed grin as she looked him over. Seeing his body, slumped and exhausted, nearly dwarfed between the two men holding him up. She took a step to close, and he bared his teeth at her, lip pulling back till most were on full display. Without warning when he lunged at her, the handlers on either side of him went from helping him stand, to holding him back. Though it was quiet and low whine as his stomach tightened up at his actions. Robin kept the weak and pitiful sound to himself, not wanting that woman to hear.

“Miss. Quinn, remove yourself from this room and from this floor. You know the rules.” Barsad stepped out in front of her gaze, blocking the two that were staring the other down. While her eyes flickered, feeling the tense vibrations that Barsad was putting off, she acted as if he hadn't said anything at all.

Harleen wasn't allowed near this particular part of the Consortium. After awhile of being stationed at this facility, her attitude towards it's patients had turned morbid. Her fascination with the aspects of what they went through during their time here left more than a few of the staff wary.

With a sharp and loud snap of his teeth Barsad steadily advanced. A few steps towards her, she just matched with a few steps back. Harley finally realized that he wasn't going to budge with this one, wasn't going to let her poke at Robin like he was an animal in a cage. With a role of her eyes, she let out a long huffing sigh, sounding very put off. The crazy wide grin was back on her face as her head tipped to the side.

She looked past Barsad for a second to a wavering John Blake, nostrils flaring in a completely unsubtle way. There was a low hum slipping up the back of her throat as she drunk in his scent. Robin snarled again, feeling some what violated. With a short chuckle, she twirled around at last. Hips swaying in that seductive dance, she took her leave.

Another member appeared at the entrance, Quinn reaching out to pat him on the shoulder like he was a pathetic lost child. The man jerked under her touch nervously before peeking his head into the room. Looking in apologetic, he seemed to be opening his mouth nervously, but was waved off Barsad. The gesture had him scampering quickly on after her with a grateful but scared look to make sure she actually made it off of the ward.

A loud gagging cough made Barsad spin just in time to see the Robin slump over. The dry heaves were shaking his form, but nothing could bother to come back up at this point. He gagged and spit on the floor, trying to breath through his mouth rather than his nose.

“Alright, lets do this as fast as we can. He needs to see Crane.” Barsad ordered shortly. Briskly wheeling the chair over, he stopped short as he quietly sniffed. Head ticking he gave the chair another inhale, before growling out in annoyance.

Pacing back over to the other side of the room, he rummaged around a small duffel bag that had been placed near the left of the entrance. The bag had gone completely unnoticed, even for something as bulky, yet compact, as it was. Barsad looked about ready to turn the bag upside, before finally pulled out the sanitized and packaged scent blocker.

Ripping it open with more force than was probably necessary with a low snarl, he rubbed it roughly and quickly along the handles and down the inside of the back rest, and then finally the cushioned seat. Apparently little ol' Harley decided to loiter around in it before handing it over.

Rubbing his hands down for any transferring scent, he tossed it to the side of the room, knowing that the area will be thoroughly cleaned as soon as they left with it's occupant. This room was just temporary in any case. A small padded bed, with a plastic cover underneath the sheets; dark walls and lighting for when the senses became overwhelmed; the room temperature kept basically freezing, helping to regulate body heat.

Everything was washed down in scent blocker to the best of it's abilities. More for the occupants 'comfort' than anything else, or so they say. A bathroom stood off to the right of him, just a simple sink and toilet. Most of the time, it went abandoned or practically unused.

The medal door was the only entry in, just to be extra cautious. It was seven feet tall and four feet wide with nearly four inches of steel in the inner core. Even more then that, on locking it, which was done in a select booth just outside the ward, the door was magnetized with three large titanium bolts. It's purpose wasn't just made to keep the Omegas safely in, it was made to keep out of control Alphas out.

The two Alpha handlers were slowly turning him, being careful when he whined out with movements that were to harsh on his body. Robin was so tired, and just wanted sit it in the damn chair already. When they finally back him up into it, slowly lowering him down. He groaned a loud and breathless sound of relief, sagging down into the chair. There was a small snort of amusement from his right, but he ignored the man as reveled in it for as long as he could.

The seat was actually more cushioned than it looked. It was a bit wider then regular hospital chairs as well. It wasn't the regular leather kind, but more of a softer, but tough, fabric. Robin felt at this point like he had run a mile, and didn't resist the panting breaths. Never had he faced this kind of exhaustion. Not during the academy, not during a bad run at work, nothing. Robin let his head hang low instead of just letting it drop back so he could pass out.

Kicking up the feet rest, Barsad helped him pick up his feet till they were propped on top of them before taking control of the chair. His hands tightly gripped at the handles with his fingers digging in as started pushing forward. Robin could practically hear the medal underneath groan at the pressure. As he was pushed closer and closer to freedom of leave this room, Robin couldn't help the loud hiss as the light hit his eyes. It burned as if staring up at the sun for too long.

The chair came to a stop before fully exiting, jolting him at how fast it was brought to a stand still. A hand was thrust to close to Robin's face, coming right by his head, making him flinch away at the suddenness. The tempered and apparently agitated Barsad held some sort of medal piece in front of the younger man's face, letting him peer curious and guarded at the bizarre contraption.

“It will help block out the scents. It's also a bite guard-” Barsad wasn't overly perturbed when he was cut off with the younger Omega's snapping petulantly. “It's a fucking muzzle.” Robin spit out. It tone was both awe and anger mixed together.

A hand settled on the back of Robin's neck, but gave no indication it was a warning. It was a hold for him to lean back on, which he did. Fingers spread out to draw softly through his thick and sweat dampened hair.

“The mask is for your comfort, and others' safety. If you go into a fit, like the one that landed you here, you could cause harm. Like biting someone's finger off, or worse. It will also calm you down.” Barsad's voice drifted closer till it was right beside his head. He had bent down so he could murmur the words into Robin's ear.

The words were soft as they caressed over him. Robin quivered, head unconsciously leaning more into the strong hold, seeking it out. The grip on the back the back of his neck flexed gently at his silence, reminding him they had somewhere to be.

A rock settled in Robin's throat as he peered at the muzzle again. He was severely reluctant to have that thing covering his face. It looked like it would be blocking him out, suffocating him. On the inside of the mask, like he knew there would be, there was a mouth piece. An area that slid over his teeth like a guard.

The thing is, the thing that really got him, was once you strap it on, fitted the piece in your mouth and to your face, you couldn't force it off. Your jaw was completely clamped shut, as well as the straps snapped into place behind your head. He couldn't reach back on his own and unsnap it, couldn't see the mechanism to force the clips open. A muzzle.

He was lost, and he felt weak. On the force, he was usually quick to jump on new information. To dissect and learn the truth littered in lies and bullshit, but not this time. All this information, everything written clear as day, and yet his brain was fried, seeming to try and reject the ideas that he knew were the truth. His brain was blocking it out as if trying to forget a bad memory. Bury it deep, and leave it be. Himself, and many others of Gotham, had to learn that one early on.

Nodding warily, so completely overwhelmed, it was slipped along over his face. The hand that kept firm to his neck had to lift the back of his head to keep him steady for a proper fit. The mouth piece was inserted, forcing him to stretch his lips a bit to slid it in over his teeth. He bit down into it on instinct, feeling the squishy material between jaws. It was more than likely some form of gel. It kept his teeth from chipping or completely grinding together.

The two straps on the side were fitted on either side of his jaw, locked into place at the base of his head. The next piece was lifted carefully patient, going slow as not to cause panic. He forced himself to keep his eyes open as it came up over his mouth and nose till everything around him was cut off. He was completely rendered of his sense of smell from the outside world. There was a weird smell though in the mask itself though. It was tangy and slightly sterile. Immediately, with a muffled snarl, he reached up to rip the mask off his face, but the top strap was already clicked into place.

“It's only a light sedative Blake-” Barsad stated steadily, grabbing his hands, holding tight when he tried to jerk them away. This was the first time Barsad had called him by a proper title. Calling him Kid didn't exactly count. “It's not gonna knock you out of your mind like the first one. This will just calm the nerves and lessen the pain. Might be good to rest If you can.”

He clamped his jaw, biting harshly into the mouth guard. It took everything not to let the panic overtake him, to throw himself out the wheel chair and tear the muzzle from his face. Pressing back the whine that built up in his chest, he felt the sedative taking hold only after a few breaths. When he nodded, Barsad gave a light squeeze to his hands before releasing them. Fingers came down to rub under the ridge of the mask, caressing along the side of his neck before moving away.

It was light, like Barsad said, not knocking him out completely. It slowly dimmed everything down around him as he breathed it in through his nose.

They had begun moving again. The light wasn't as bright now, but enough that he still had to squint against it. The floor beneath them was gleaming from the light over head, making it seem like they glowed. It didn't feel like a hospital. It was warmer, more than just being temperature wise. That part was probably just him. This place seemed less frightening than a hospital. Not really all that welcoming, but not as terrifying as it would seem to appear. It could look close to suffocating you if you let it, yet if you resisted the initial shock of it all, you felt more comforted by it's closeness than caged.

The mask though, was a totally different tale. It felt tight against his face to the point he feared it would dig deeply and sharply enough into his skin, it would tear. Jaw held shut by it's constrictions, teeth clenched together. He couldn't open his mouth, but breathing wasn't a problem. It was filtered, the air staying fresh instead of growing moist and stuffy.

The strange medicinal smell was fading away, getting weaker after every intake. It left him relaxed, the tension in his muscles bleeding away. He needed to pay attention to his surroundings. Robin needed to know where he was, needed to take in the details, but he couldn't focus. He was just to mentally and physically exhausted to care.

He really was useless like this.

They were on their way to Doctor Crane, with Barsad at every pause in their journey reaching up to lightly run his thumb across Robin's exposed temples. Letting his mind go unfocused couldn't seem like a better idea. His nerves was being numbed, his muscles unclenched and limp. The pain had settled down, and it was bearable. Robin could do little more than just give into the moment of reprieve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, This chapter is more then 8000 words long. I hope you guys are into that kind of thing, because no matter how many times I try, I can't make them shorter, or break them up for shorter, but more, chapters. Hope you enjoyed this.

**Author's Note:**

> This story still hasn't been completely thought out, and new tags might be added later on. I'm not sure where the story is gonna go, but I hope you enjoyed this chapter either way. 
> 
> I will always put warnings in the top notes if something comes up that aren't in the tags.


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